


No Need to Get Overalarmed, I'm Coming Home

by panlesters



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: F/M, It's really short, i wrote this while i was sleep deprived at 1am so it's prob terrible, idek what sensible things there are to write about im still p sleep deprived, it's just pain honestly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-10
Updated: 2017-12-10
Packaged: 2019-02-13 00:47:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12972039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/panlesters/pseuds/panlesters
Summary: It's late when Amy gets the call.





	No Need to Get Overalarmed, I'm Coming Home

**Author's Note:**

> so yeah basically i was really tired, i was listening to murder in the city by the avett brothers, and this fic was birthed. it's not my best work but it's been a while so i'm just rolling with it at this point. enjoy!

It’s late when Amy gets the call. She’s cooking dinner – it’s nothing special, but she’s had the day off while Jake’s been at work on a long shift, and she wanted to do something nice for him.

She’s flicking through the channels as she absentmindedly fiddles with the two rings on her left hand. Looking back, she’s not sure how she managed to get so lucky as to attract a person to her such as Jake, who is sweet and kind and caring and just the right amount of annoying to counterbalance every other perfect aspect.

The two plates are on the side, untouched, while Amy waits for the pasta to cook to go along with the Bolognese sauce she’s managed to salvage from random leftovers from their fridge and freezer. She’s dishing up when the phone rings. It sounds the same as it always does – long, monotonous, and only mildly important. Amy decides it can wait until she’s got food on plates.

Her memory flits back to the morning, when she had nudged Jake awake at 8, and was greeted by a groan.

“Don’t wanna,” was the muffled response she got from her husband. A laugh had risen from her chest as she playfully jabbed him in the ribs.

“’Good morning’ is the general greeting,” she told him matter-of-factly. Jake’s head had reluctantly poked up from where it was buried in his pillow to frown at Amy sleepily. She couldn’t have taken him seriously if she’d tried; his hair is a mess, his eyes are closed, and his face is scrunched up in utter distaste.

“No one should be awake at this _ungodly_ hour,” he grumbled. He had gone to push himself off the bed before reconsidering for a second and flopping back down again. “You know what would be _sooo_ much better than going to work today?” Amy raised her eyebrows, smiling slightly. “Staying right here with you.”

“Get up, babe,” Amy grinned, pressing a kiss to his cheek and rising from the bed herself. “If you’re up in five minutes, I’ll make you coffee.”

Jake had sighed overdramatically and heaved himself off the bed.

* * *

 

Amy smiles fondly as she picks up the phone. She doesn’t check the caller ID, or she would have known it was Captain Holt calling. She would have picked up sooner.

* * *

 

“Have a good day off today, babe,” Jake had said to Amy, the way he always does when it’s her day off.

“Go serve some justice, Pineapples,” Amy smirked back as she had pressed a quick peck to his lips.

“See you tonight,” Jake had called as he’d closed the door. In hindsight, Amy should have taken a moment to relish the normality.

In hindsight, Amy should have let him stay in bed all day. She’s struggling to get into the car, she _hates_ this damn car, and she scrambles with the keys as her hands shake. She stalls in her hurry to move off and she’s screaming “damn it, _DAMN IT_ ” at the steering wheel before she can compose herself enough to drive off properly.

By the time she reaches the hospital, Amy’s sure she’s broken half the road laws. She knows so little about the situation; she was already half way out the door when she hung up from talking to Holt. All she knows is that Jake has been shot, that it’s not looking good, that they’ve rushed him into surgery.

She’s in the lobby, she’s crying and her words are stammering as she tries to talk to the receptionist, who is interrupted by Charles suddenly calling her name and running to her.

“Charles, is he – is he ok?” Amy gulps down air like she’s parched, and Charles wraps an arm around her.

“He’s still in surgery,” he replies, “but we’re staying hopeful. You need some food, have you eaten?”

At the thought of the untouched Bolognese for two on her kitchen side, Amy nearly starts crying again, but instead she just wordlessly shakes her head. Charles dutifully takes her to find some food and coffee. They pass the rest of the squad on the way, all looking weary, as if they’d been waiting all night. Amy stops to thank every one of them for being there before Charles is able to gently pull her away.

The scene hasn’t changed when Charles and Amy arrive back, coffee and chocolate bar in hand. Amy is still shaking, but she’s taking deep breaths to stop the tears, and reminding herself to stay positive. It’s not long before Karen arrives, flushed and looking just as run down as the rest of the squad. She thanks Amy for being there, and is about to ask how Jake is when a doctor appears.

“Would it be possible to speak with Ms. Karen Peralta and Mrs Amy Peralta-Santiago?”

Amy already knows what’s happened before they’ve left the crowded hall. She grabs onto Karen’s arm for support as they leave the crowded hall and follow the doctor into a more private room, where the news is broken.

“I’m sorry,” the doctor starts, we did everything we could.” Amy breaks. She grabs at Karen’s shoulder, but she too has begun to cry. “Jacob Peralta died on the operating table. I’m so sorry.”

 

* * *

 

Amy spends the night with Karen and Roger. She is numb: exhausted from crying, exhausted from blaming herself. Karen finds her curled up on the sofa at 3am, watching a repeat of an old Gilmore Girls episode. She silently joins Amy, burying herself under the blankets next to her and resting her head on Amy’s shoulder.

It’s ten minutes before Amy speaks.

“You smell like him.” Karen goes to shift away but Amy moves a hand to her arm. “No… I need that right now.”

**Author's Note:**

> comments are always appreciated, come scream about jake and amy with me on my tumblr @hearteyes-peralta


End file.
